Reckless
by At A Venture
Summary: AU. Eric/Sookie with some Bill/Sookie . This is a complete re-write of Sookie Stackhouse's personality. This isn't the Sookie you know and love. Rated T with later chapters M.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Following the books, somewhat, but AU. This isn't the Sookie you know and love. _

**Reckless**

_Chapter 1_

They didn't start selling blood in Bon Temps until November; a good eight months after the word "vampire" became a part of household conversation. I'd never met a vampire before. Everything I knew about them came from television and movies. And you know how accurate those things are, right? I mean, the same could be said about Southern girls, right? We're all supposed to be the same. We're simple and pretty, easily knocked up with low personal expectations. We have big families and eat lots of fried food. Well, stereotypes will only take you so far.

My parents named me Sookie. It's one of those "American" names that don't mean anything. I looked it up once in a book. I guess they thought it sounded bright or cheerful. I can't ask them. They died during a flash flood when I was seven years old. My grandmother, Adele, raised me and my older brother, Jason. She passed away last year, at the age of eighty. Jason is my only living relative and honestly, I could probably get by just fine without him. My brother is a Moron, capital M. He's completely useless to me, cute and stupid and a big hit with the ladies. He goes through girlfriends like candy bars. He manages the Bon Temps road crew, a job that allows him to sit on his ass all day and flex his muscles when high school girls stroll by. We don't speak much. I don't miss his company.

On top of my various family issues, I have a little secret. I can read minds. Don't go getting all excited now. Believe me, mind-reading is the last gift you want to wish on anybody. When you can read your friend's private thoughts, you know they think your prom dress is too short on the thigh and too low on the chest. When you can hear your crush's thoughts, you know he's wondering if you stuff your bra with Kleenex tissues, or if your curtains match your carpet. Mostly, they just piss me off. I've gotten into a lot of fights over the years. I've quit a few jobs. I've been fired from a few more. You ever see that movie, _X-Men_, where the girl can't touch people? She's sort of cut off from everybody else because she can't get close to anyone without hurting them. Well, mostly, I'm like her but more aggressive.

I saw my first bottle of synthetic blood when Sam Merlotte, my boss, pulled it out of a box of liquor deliveries. Sam set it down on the bar and I picked it up immediately. My co-worker and semi-regular friend, Maudette, looked over my shoulder at it. She was wondering if it smelled like and tasted like real blood. I put up my mental wall to block out her mind. Maudette was as easy to read as a See Jane Run book. Keeping her out of my head was a chore, but she knew how to have a good time. In a small town like Bon Temps, that sort of skill is pretty valuable.

"Is it flavored?" Maudette asked.

"What, like grape flavor or tomato flavor?" I raised an eyebrow at her. "It says AB positive. Is that a flavor?"

"It's just going to go bad," Sam sighed. He took the bottle from me and put it in the fridge with the beer.

"Maybe we'll get lucky, get ourselves a real life vampire in Bon Temps." I smirked. Nobody ever came here if they could help it. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about packing up and leaving, but I've spent my whole life in this stupid little town. Maudette had expanded my knowledge of vampires by trekking out to Shreveport to do a little investigating. I'd seen more than a few episodes of intercourse with vampires in her mind, like movies on an old film reel. She'd replay them in her mind when she was bored at work or minding her tables or eating her supper. I'm not going to lie and tell you the thoughts didn't interest me. Think of it as free porn without need for the internet. I've never actually had the pleasure of sex. It's not like I don't want to or like I haven't tried. It's just very off putting when you can read your partner's thoughts and you know he's thinking about how ugly you look naked, or about putting gas in his car, or about how long he'll have to hold you after the fucking is over. You may think I'm crazy, but I swear to you, nine times out of ten he isn't thinking about what you expect him to be thinking about. You are the furthest thing from his mind. Still, if Maudette's memory is any indication, it might just be worth it to fuck a vampire.

A month after Sam bought our first case of synthetic blood, a day after we dumped every single expired bottle in the place, we had our first vampire visitor. He sat down in my section and I just knew. He had pale skin and sunken cheeks, brown hair that fell sloppily across his forehead, and almost black brown eyes. He sat down in a booth in my section, right behind the Rats. The Rats were Mack and Denise Rattray, a couple from the scummier part of Bon Temps. They lived close to the swamp in a run-down old trailer. They noticed the vampire same as I did, and crawled into his booth like vermin about to scavenge a fresh kill. I walked up to their table as Denise leaned over the vampire, touching her throat with her fingertips, brushing her hair back from her neck. Mack sat across from them, practically licking his lips. My stomach lurched.

"Drink?" I asked. I tucked my pencil into my hair and cocked out my hip so I could lean my hand on it.

"Do you have any True Blood?" The vampire asked coolly. His voice was gravely and low. Denise giggled like a lusting school girl.

"We're out," I grunted, looking past the vampire to Mack Rattray. He was clearly staring right at my breasts. Asshole. If I took down the barrier that kept out his thoughts, I'd probably be able to hear him think about whether or not I'd gotten implants. I was blessed in the breast department. I'd punched out at least five men for thinking I'd gotten them done.

"Just some red wine then," the vampire frowned. He was looking at Denise's neck, barely registering my presence at all.

"Yeah, sure," I nodded. I walked back to the bar to find my boss grabbing his baseball bat.

"Breathe, Sam," I muttered. "Hand me a glass of red wine."

"Right," Sam floundered. He dug around behind bottles of liquor for a dusty bottle of red wine. It was a fairly uncommon choice at Merlotte's. Most of our customers stuck to whiskey or Budweiser. I took the wind back to the table. The vampire had returned his attention to me, away from the Rat woman. He followed me across the room, his dark eyes focused on my face. If the Rats weren't sitting with him, I'd have been tempted to lower the mental walls, to dig around in his brain. But I wasn't curious enough. I didn't want to hear Mack and Denise, no matter how curious I was about the vampire patron.

"What's your name?" The vampire asked, his eyes staring so hard at me that I thought about smacking him in the eye just to cut him off.

"That's Sookie Stackhouse," Mack answered for me. "She's the fuckin' craziest bitch in Bon Temps." I narrowed my eyes at him, balled my hands into tight fists.

"You really want to fuck with me tonight, Mack?" I snarled at him. Sam was coming up behind me. I could smell his aftershave. That man was good at keeping me out of trouble.

"Sook, your order is up," Sam murmured near my ear.

"Yeah," I hissed under my breath. "Right." I had to force my legs to walk away from the table. I could feel the vampire's eyes on me, drilling holes into my back.

At mid-shift, I went out back for a cigarette and a Coke. I leaned on the hood of my car and blew a cloud of gray smoke into the chilly December air. I let down the barriers. They were hard to keep up, like a constant migraine that throbbed between my temples all night. Anyway, there was nothing to block outside in the dark. Or at least, that's what I thought when I took another long drag and listened to the crackle of burning paper and smoldering tobacco. That's when I heard them, the Rattrays.

I'm not some sort of super hero. I don't go around reading thoughts and rescuing people in distress. That's not really my style. I don't spend a lot of time with people and I have my own shit to deal with, but, well, I have some sense of ethics. You can't hear someone obviously torturing someone else and just ignore them. I mean, I'm not completely cut off from the world. Just mostly. I threw my cigarette into the gravel and snubbed out the embers with the toe of my boot. I left my Coke can on the car hood and walked through the lot. My shadow stretched across the circular beam of the yellow security lamp. Sam's truck sat outside his trailer. Out of the bed, I grabbed a length of chain, probably used to attach things to the hitch of the truck. I walked as quietly as I could over the gravel, fingering the cool links with the pad of my thumb. It isn't that the thoughts grew louder, but that they seemed closer. I found them in the dirt beside the back road leading out of the parking lot.

Denise knelt on the ground beside the vampire. Even from several feet away, I could see her fillings vials of blood from the vampire's arm, like some sort of desperate nursing student. The vampire seemed to be restrained somehow, though I couldn't actually see anything holding him still. Mack stood over them, his back hunched like his neck was tied to the ground. His mind raced. He was dying for a fix of "V," the street name for vampire blood. I'd heard that "V" was a profitable black market commodity. I'd never done it, mostly because when I was into the drug scene, "V" didn't yet exist. Watching Mack bounce around like a jittery heroin addict made me want to swear off "V" forever.

The vampire's head turned to me as I snuck through the darkness. A silver chain around his throat caught the faint light of the security lamp and glinted. Okay, chalk that up to a new thing I could learn about vampires. Funny, I thought silver was used to kill werewolves. Oh well. Whatever. I looked at him for several silent seconds, watching his eyes, gazing as the tips of his pointed teeth. It took me awhile to notice that I couldn't hear him thinking. He had to be thinking, right? I mean, who isn't thinking while they're being tortured, drained? But if he was thinking, I couldn't hear him. I strained to get some sense of his mind, mostly because I wasn't used to being kept in the dark. I heard nothing. In fact, it was almost the absence of something, not the _nothing_ of not thinking. Instead of not thinking, he was a void, a lack of anything.

I didn't have much more time to think about it. Mack turned and made to come at me. I threw the chain from the truck bed, catching him around the throat. Maliciousness screwed with my features, turning down my eyebrows, narrowing my eyes, baring my teeth. The chain continued to twist and contort around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Mack dropped to his knees. The knife he'd been holding, a huge Bowie with a bright blade, clattered to the ground. I took a step forward and threw up my knee, catching him in the nose and mouth. His blood splattered, staining my pants. It was worth it.

"You need to go," I hissed at Denise. She was crouching, halfway up, one vial still clutched in her hand, half-full. Her wide eyes were daggers, focused on me and ready to fight back. I balled my hands into fists, fully ready to kick her to the curb, so to speak. She thought about coming after me, then slowly remembered my record for fighting and decided against it. She knelt to grab the vials of blood instead.

"Leave them," I growled at her, taking a step toward her. Her hands fell from the vials and they clattered onto the grass. She grabbed Mack by the arm and dragged him to his feet. He was tugging at the chain still, ignoring the blood oozing from his broken nose. They stumbled away together.

I knelt down beside the vampire, sinking my knees into the dirt and damp grass. The chain seemed like it was burning through his skin, and little wisps of smoke rose up from it in a rather disturbing way. I picked up the chain and unwound it from his wrists and ankles. He sat up slowly, gazing at me. His eyes were as dark as his thoughtless mind. I dropped the chain onto the grass and pulled another cigarette out of the package.

"You okay?" I asked him. I lit the cigarette, enjoyed the familiar crackling sound. I sucked in smoke and nicotine. After a second, I got to my feet.

"I will be," he replied in a shaky voice.

"Great, because I have to get back to work," I said. I stuck my thumb back in the direction of the bar and stepped down onto the road. I heard him stir behind me.

"Wait," he croaked. I turned around to look at him. His pale face glowed white. He'd lost a lot of blood. Could he replenish it by drinking the vials? Oh gross, Sookie!

"Look, I really have to get back." Gotta admit, though, it was fascinating standing there, not hearing anything.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Yeah, sure," I shrugged. "No problem."

"Allow me to offer you my thanks. Take the blood. I understand it to be valuable among humans, like an elixir."

"I'll stick to pot, thanks," I shuddered, thinking about Mack and his kill or be killed desire for "V."

"Sell it then," he offered. "It is worth a great deal."

"Do I look like the kind of girl that sells drugs?" I raised an eyebrow at him. I mean, sheesh. I had a real job.

"I apologize. I've offended you."

"If you'd really offended me, I would've kicked your ass by now. I just don't sell drugs, okay? I have a job."

"Please, accept my apology." He bowed his head.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I frowned, feeling uncomfortable. "Look. I really gotta go. My break's been over awhile now. Come back into the bar sometime. We'll have blood."

I was walking away when I realized I hadn't gotten his name. I turned around to look back at him, and noticed he was picking up each vial and putting it into his pocket.

"You got a name?" I yelled.

"Bill," he replied simply.

Interesting name for a vampire. I shrugged and grabbed my Coke off the car hood and went back inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reckless**

_Chapter 2_

More than a few people in my life had died. I'd lost my parents to a flash flood, my grandmother to old age, and my aunt to cancer. But the thing is, no matter how tough you are, no matter how closed off you let yourself become, death still hits you like a ton of bricks dropped from fifty stories. You never expect it even though you know it happens to everyone. It's sort of like this big black cat, ready to scamper across your path and blacken your whole…everything. I was getting ready for work, the morning shift on a Thursday, when Sam called me. I threw my work shirt on over a crappy "silk-feel" bra from Wal-Mart and grabbed the cordless phone off the hook. Outside, I could hear rain drops banging on the tin roof.

"Sookie," Sam said in a sad voice that would have pulled at my heart if I'd let it. I didn't.

"I'm coming, Sam," I looked at the clock, but I knew I wasn't late yet.

"Stay home, Sookie. We're closing for the day. Maudette…she…" Sam paused and I tensed. The sound of his voice plus the mention of Maudette made me want to grab for my package of cigarettes though I had vowed to Gran that I would never smoke in the house.

"She what? What?" I almost yelled into the phone. I don't take bad news well, but shit, who does?

"She's dead, Sookie." Sam frowned. I could hear it in his voice. I almost dropped the receiver. I sank into the fluffy mattress that had once belonged to my Gran. I was definitely reaching for the cigarettes now, vow be damned.

"She…" I whimpered into the phone in a pathetic voice that didn't belong to me. I put a cigarette between my lips but I didn't light it. My hands were shaking.

"She…it looks like Maudette was murdered, Sook," Sam went on.

That did it. I was up again, on my feet, off the bed. I felt a rage boil inside me that hadn't been there a second ago. She was murdered? Who was she murdered by? Where could I find them? How could I kill them right the fuck back?! I dropped the cigarette because it would only serve to calm me down. I didn't need to be calm. I needed to be mad. Angry. Batshit insane. I needed to hurt something, bad, and I needed to do it soon.

"Sookie, are you still there? I'm coming over." Sam was still talking into the phone and I hung it up. Talking was done. I threw the phone onto the bed and stalked into the living room. I didn't know what to do with myself, how to relieve the pressure that was very clearly building up inside me. Steam was going to start rolling out of my ears.

Maudette was the only girl I knew that was remotely close to a friend. She wasn't particularly smart, and she didn't know jack about my mind-reading ability. She liked taking field trips to the vampire bars in Shreveport and then coming back to tell me all the gory details. I wondered, instantly, if one of them had followed her home. I twirled around in a circle in the middle of my living room and finally threw my foot into the rickety old coffee table. I wasn't wearing shoes and it smashed into several large chunks, spraying me with splintered wood. But fuck, who cared if I had a damn splinter in my toe? My only friend in the world was goddamn dead. Dead as dead could be! I thought about Jason's rifle sitting in the shed. Vengeance boiled me up. I didn't have anyone to kill but I knew I wanted to kill somebody.

The knock on my back door almost sent me screaming through the ceiling.

"WHAT?" I barked at the closed porch door. It bounced open, and there was Sam Merlotte. His hair was soaked and his jean jacket was damp. He looked like a wet dog and smelled like one too. I squared my hands into fists and stared at him.

"_Chere,_" Sam said. He was the only person in the world that called me by a pet name. I let him because he was a good man, almost friend-like. I hadn't let him into my head, into my heart, but I'd thought about it a few times. Sam was great about getting me out of some mean scrapes.

"Don't," I hissed, because I wasn't in the mood. I was angry and I needed to stay that way. "Tell me what happened."

"They don't know. They found her in her apartment. She was…she'd been…they believe she spent the night with company."

"No surprise there," I shrugged. Maudette typically had male company seven nights a week. She'd even invite them over after hauling ass through a double shift. Maudette Pickens was never too tired to get laid.

"They found vampire bites on her thigh, but they don't know if that was what killed her." Sam sighed. He remained standing in the doorway, dripping on Gran's welcome mat.

"I'll just have to find out," I said resolutely. Maybe I could talk to that vampire that came into the bar, Bill. Maybe he'd know something about Maudette. Who knows, maybe he'd killed her himself, drank her blood to replenish what he'd lost.

I felt sick, and I had to sit down.

Sam crossed the living room floor even though he was still wet and a complete mess. I let him get close because I felt nauseous. He was one of the few people in the living world that I'd let get near me, and even Sam Merlotte couldn't get too close. I'd never hit Sam before but I had no qualms about doing so if the circumstances were right. He knelt on the floor in front of me and, after gazing up at my face for a few seconds, took my foot in his hand. The splinter was sticking out of my big toe and it had bled a little too. It was a fairly awesome chunk of wood in my skin. It was so big, Sam didn't even need tweezers. He pinched the sliver between his thumb and forefinger and yanked it out of my skin. I flinched, but that was all.

"I'm going to find out what happened to her, Sam," I said again. He touched my knee and looked at me with forlorn longing or something fairly similar. I didn't have time for that. I got to my feet and stomped back to the bedroom to change clothes. If I didn't have to work, I was going to wear something more appropriate for hunting down a killer. I was going to wear something black.

"I'm going with you," Sam yelled from the living room.

"You're not!" I called back. I pulled a pair of blue jeans from the closet, and yanked them on underneath a black low-cut v-neck long sleeve shirt.

"I am," Sam said. He was standing right in my bedroom door, looking at me with puppy-dog blue eyes. His jaw was set and determined. I slid my feet into a pair of black knee high boots and threw on a jacket.

"I'm going to find out who-the-hell killed her, Sam," I said. "And then I'm going to kill the son of a bitch."

"All the more reason for me to go with you, _chere_," Sam said. "Come on. Have a little faith in me, okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "Right."

Sam drove me to Maudette's first, where we were met with tons of yellow police tape and a cool stare from Sheriff Dearborn. Bud Dearborn and I were what you might call enemies. He'd arrested me more than once for assault charges, though none of them ever stuck. I could always say I was defending myself, and since the fights happened to be with men fairly often, I usually won and the charges were dropped. After all, what kind of man wants to admit that some girl beat him up? Except, you know, I often did beat him up. Sam rolled down the car window and asked if the Sheriff had learned anything new about the case. The sheriff shook his head sadly and said it definitely looked like a homicide.

There was that rage again.

"I'm going to buy you a beer, Sookie, and then we're going to open the bar. People need a place to gab about Maudette, and you need a place to…cool off." He looked at me while he spoke.

"I don't want to cool off! I want to find out who murdered my friend!" I roared at him.

"You think that attitude is going to help anybody, Sook?" Sam retorted.

"Maybe," I growled under my breath.

"Yeah, or maybe not," Sam grunted.

Sam drove to the bar and parked beside his trailer. I got out of the trunk and trudged through the rain to the employee entrance. It was locked, so I had to wait for Sam to join me with the keys. Rain splattered against my neck and face, cooling off more than my temper. I shivered and sighed until Sam pushed open the back door and swept through the hallway. He unlocked his office and went in. I took off down to the front of the restaurant and sat down on Jade Bodehouse's barstool. I thought about getting as drunk as she was and just not caring about anything. Sometimes, it just seemed like a better route than the one I was on.

I let my shoulders fall and the tension sank from them into my back muscles. I couldn't think about anything but Maudette Pickens, staring up at the ceiling in her apartment with unseeing eyes, her cold naked skin completely exposed to the world. I could see vampire bites on her leg in my head and that just made the whole image that much worse. In the minute or so of time between sitting at the bar and having Sam pour me a beer from the tap, I thought about crying, screaming, stabbing someone, and stabbing myself. I wasn't sure what to do with all the anger, so I washed it down by chugging the piss-colored liquid in front of me.

"She was my friend," I said to Sam in a moment of weakness. He sat down on the stool beside me and touched my hand. I looked at his fingers touching mine, and I thought about all the comfort I could probably squeeze out of him. I could use a little comfort. I could use a little of that distracting sex time that Maudette seemed to enjoy so much.

"I'm your friend, Sook," Sam said gently. He seemed to stare right into me.

"Okay, yeah, that's enough," I said. I shrugged him off, swatted his hand away. I'm not a touchy-feely kind of girl. I don't need any sympathy from anybody.

Sam opened the bar at noon, and I worked hard, slinging beer and chicken baskets and hamburgers. The restaurant buzzed with talk of Maudette, and I couldn't block them out. I had tremors in my hands by five thirty, when I decided to take a smoke break out back. The rain had tapered off and though it was cold, I sat the bed of Sam's pick up truck and lit a cigarette. I swung my legs over the gravel and tried not to think about anything. I closed my eyes and stared at the dark insides of my eyelids. I took a long drag on the cigarette and let the smoke roll out of my nose in one long wave.

"Smoking is bad for you, Sookie," I heard a raspy male voice before someone grabbed me by the leg and yanked me off the truck bed and into the gravel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reckless**

_Chapter 3_

I was seeing stars for a minute, my head having smacked first against the bed of Sam's pick up truck and then a second time on the bits of parking lot gravel underneath the truck's wheels. I didn't have long to dwell on the dizziness, the strange noise that rang briefly in my ears. I only caught a brief glimpse of the green flash that appears on the horizon as the sun sets before the toe of a heavy boot came slamming into my ribcage. Roll away Sookie, I thought, but I couldn't figure out my bearings. Which way was away? I couldn't even see straight. The world seemed to get dark far too quickly, as though the sunset were just my imagination and it was really past eleven, the moon setting in the sky. There were more blows, painful blows, to my ribs and hips and legs. I might have been screaming, but I couldn't tell for sure. Nothing seemed real.

I could definitely taste blood on my tongue, though I wasn't exactly sure where it was coming from.

My mind drifted to Sam Merlotte, the guy who'd come to my rescue on more than one occasion. Usually I was on the offensive end of the fight, not the meat being pummeled by an unseen force. He was no more than fifty feet away, and for once, I wished my ability to read thoughts was more developed, more actively oriented. Oh fuck, Sam, just know that I need some fucking help, okay? Open the damn door! Help me! Sam!

_Please…_

I was in so much pain that I wasn't sure exactly where it was coming from. I reached out with blind hands and caught a pant leg. I yanked, with every ounce of strength I had. There wasn't much. I couldn't tell if I'd managed to stop the constant jabs of boot into bone and sinew. Had I accomplished anything at all? I forced one of my eyes open, but it wouldn't go much more than a slit. The sky was darkening, and I could see the face of a man. That was the extent of my observational powers, though.

"Sam?" I croaked. I instantly regretted speaking. It hurt just to think, let alone talk.

"Sookie," growled a voice that definitely did not belong to my boss.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," I groaned defensively. I thought about all those stories I'd heard from the minds of other women. Sometimes, after you got beaten to a pulp, they'd rape you, just to show you who was in charge. Well, no one did that kind of shit to Sookie Stackhouse. If I could have cringed with the memories of a regretful childhood, I would have. As it was though, I tried to drag my arms across myself. My limbs were heavy and I felt sick just moving them.

"You'll die if I do not," the voice said in reply.

"I'd rather die…" I whispered, my voice throaty and hoarse. I wanted to tell him I'd rather die than be a victim, but I couldn't find the strength to finish a sentence.

His arms slid underneath me. I shut my eyes to try to beat back the pain, and I swung my hand up to scratch at his face. It was all I could do and I was shamed by the femininity of the act. It was pathetic, harmless, a few drops of blood and I couldn't accomplish anything else. I was a sad act. A little part of my brain decided maybe I deserved to be caught in this sort of situation. I'd let my guard down. I'd let him at me. At least, if I passed out from the pain, I wouldn't have to feel his dirty hands on me. That was when I made up my mind to do it, to shut down. The last thing I heard was my name on his lips, and I couldn't even ask him how he knew it.

I woke up in a kind of daze, my eyes unfocused, my heart beating slowly and heavily in my chest. It took several seconds to recognize what I was seeing, and when I finally did see him, I couldn't believe it. Bill's lips were blood red, and his skin was glowing pink, like he'd just been exposed to the sun for hours without sunblock. He reached out to touch my face, but I rolled to one side, avoiding the touch. I don't like to be touched. The movement sent shivers of agony throughout my body.

"Sookie," Bill said in a distinct, growling voice. "Allow me to help you. You do not want to die here."

"I don't need your help. I'm fine." I grunted. Is it denial if you know you're in denial? I was clearly not fine, but damnit, I didn't need help from a vampire I'd met once in a bar and saved from a couple of strung out junkies.

"If you continue to lose blood in this manner, I shall have to turn you in order to extend your life. " Bill spoke so rationally that it seemed to make sense. Creepy.

"I'll be okay," I said, trying to convince him, or maybe myself. I tried to get an elbow up, but my arm wouldn't bend the right way. "Shit, arm's fuckin' broken."

"Much of your body is broken and bleeding, Sookie." Bill said, again in a matter of fact tone that would have been comforting if it weren't so strange.

"I don't have health insurance," I sighed. Times had been tight since Gran had died, and I'd had to let my policy lapse.

"You will not make it to a hospital, Sookie. You will die first." Bill said. I had trouble seeing him in any sort of detail. My vision was impaired, and it was very dark. For the first time, I realized I wasn't lying on gravel. We weren't in the parking lot behind the bar. I didn't know exactly where we were, to be honest. Bill seemed to move, though I couldn't see what he was doing.

"Drink this," Bill said. He held his arm to my mouth. Was that blood I was smelling? It didn't smell like mine. It was too thick, too hot.

"Drink what? I can't see anything."

"My blood will cure you, Sookie. You will not die if you drink it. I am repaying you for saving my life."

"Okay, I'm not that desperate." I sneered and tried to move away. I might have gotten a whole centimeter from where I started before the pain shot through me like nails through a piece of dry wall. But damnit, I wasn't giving up. If I kept up at this rate, I could maybe make it back to the bar. I trusted Sam, at least a little bit more than a vampire.

"You do not have a choice." Bill said. He took my head and pushed it to his arm, by force. I squirmed, smearing his blood across my mouth and cheeks and chin. No way. Sookie Stackhouse doesn't get forced into anything!

"Drink me, Sookie," Bill urged. He stroked the back of my neck in a way that I found soothing and disturbing at the same time. A drop of his blood stained my tongue. The flavor was like pennies and rust, like the smell of car parts baking in the summer sun. More of it slithered between my lips. I choked and spat, fighting against him more violently than I had before. I was still in so much pain, but it seemed to decrease with every second that Bill held onto me.

"No!" I screamed, my voice thick with saliva. I pushed him away, but I couldn't tell whether or not I'd pushed so much as he'd let go on purpose. Either way, I fell back onto a patch of dewy grass and blinked.

"You are right to be scared," Bill frowned. "I am a vampire. My blood will have strange effects on you. You have not had much, but it is enough to keep you among the living. You should go to a hospital."

"I'm not scared of anything," I retorted with a scowl. I could feel my toes, and it wasn't until right then that I realized I couldn't feel them a few minutes ago. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"I will take you back to the bar." Bill sighed. He stood and then crouched to lift me into his arms. I thought about fighting him off, walking on my own, but I didn't know where we were and I wasn't sure I could walk.

"Did you kill Maudette?" I asked as he walked. My head rested on his flexed bicep. He was a big man, but I could take him if he'd killed my friend.

"The murdered woman? No." Bill said. I couldn't read his thoughts, but something told me he wasn't lying.

"It was a vampire that killed her," I growled. "I know it."

We were back under the lights of the bar parking lot. Bill set me down on my feet by the back door. I wobbled, but held onto the wall to remain standing. What was that look in his eyes? It better not be pity. I was fine, damnit. And I'd find out whoever the fuck jumped me.

"How do you know?" Bill asked frankly.

"Just call it a sixth sense," I remarked. I took the handle of the door and pulled it open with effort.

"Vampires are not men, Sookie. They make their own laws."

"I'm not a man either," I said, mimicking his tone. "I've been making up my own rules since my days on the playground. If it was a vampire that killed Maudette, I'll find him. And I'll kill him."

The door swung open and I turned to look at it. Sam Merlotte leaned out and stared at me, wide-eyed. He grabbed me with both hands and pulled me against his chest, gently but firmly. Maybe a little part of me wanted to sink into him, to just be safe with someone I trusted. I overcame that inclination fairly quickly.

"Someone jumped me in the lot, but I'm fine." I said, pushing him away. It was still hard. I could stand, but I probably still had some broken ribs, some fractures.

"Who?!" Sam almost yelled. He didn't go very far despite my pushing him. He backed up maybe three inches, still well within the boundaries of personal space.

"Don't know," I frowned angrily. I turned around to gesture at Bill, say he saved me, but he was gone. I could see stains of blood on the ground where I'd hit the gravel. "But when I find out, they're dead."

"You're going to the hospital, Sook." Sam said bluntly. "And don't give me any of your shit."

I managed to keep my boss at bay for a couple of hours, telling him I'd sleep it off on the sofa in his office. I said he could take me home after the bar closed, but he came into the office at ten o'clock, saying that Terry and Lafayette, the replacement bartender and the cook, were closing up for the night. Sam carried me back out to the parking lot, and I let him only because he was Sam. He put me in the passenger seat of the truck and pulled out of the lot just as Andy Bellefleur was pulling in. He had his siren going, and he stopped Sam just as we were pulling out of the driveway.

"You can't leave," Andy said. "This is a crime scene."

"Get out of the way, Andy." Sam growled in a way I'd never seen before. He looked almost inhuman. "Sookie needs to get to the hospital, now."

"What? Why?" Andy peered through the truck's tinted windows at me.

"Because she's hurt, damnit. Now move out of the way before I move you myself!"

"You get your ass back to this bar as soon as possible, Merlotte. We've got a crime scene on our hands! Double murder!"

"Who?" Sam sneered. I was listening now too.

"Mack and Denise Rattray, lying in the bushes, mutilated."


	4. Chapter 4

**Reckless**

_Chapter 4_

"I can't just sit here like this, Sam. I'll go crazy." I was restless, lying in a hospital bed in a curtained section of the Clarice Hospital emergency room. The nurse had taken one look at me before calling for the doctor and a pair of Renard Parish's finest. Sam Merlotte crossed his arms over his chest, crinkling the blue plaid shirt he wore. His brow was furrowed, creased with wrinkles. He was looking at me with concern, and that only made me more uncomfortable. I kept my mental barriers up high to block out the thoughts of pain all around me.

"Just sit still, Sookie Stackhouse. The longer we spend here, the less time we have to deal with Andy Bellefleur when we get back to the bar." Sam sneered. Even though I wasn't listening to his head, I knew he was thinking about the double homicide at the bar. I tried to imagine the Rats, dead as doornails, in the bar's parking lot. I wished I'd killed them myself.

"Is there a mirror around here somewhere? I wanna see what I look like at least." After the nurse left, I'd had to shimmy out of my bloody uniform and into one of those awful cotton gowns with the open backs. Worst of all, Sam had had to help me maneuver out of my shirt and skimpy black shorts. He'd made these hissing sounds with his teeth every time he saw something he didn't like, and that was pretty often. On the front of myself, I could see huge bruises and a few open cuts. My knees and elbows were scraped up, though I couldn't recall any sort of dragging across the ground. I had huge bruises around my ribcage, and when I breathed, I could feel the sharp pain of broken rib bones wiggling around in ways that weren't exactly comforting. The arm that I was sure was broken before didn't feel so busted up now. Bill had done something to me, something I didn't like or trust.

"What are those jokes about the things that are black and white and red all over? Well, you're it, Sook. When we find out who the hell attacked you, I'll kill 'em." Sam scowled in a way that was completely foreign.

"Not if I get my hands on him first, you won't." I narrowed my eyes to slits and could feel a thumping of blood in my cheek.

The doctor finally came down, followed by a couple of cops. They took my statement, and then the doctor took me for the world's most painful x-rays. He stuck my broken arm, which had a hairline fracture, in a splint and a sling. He gave me a huge prescription for Oxycodone and warned me against aspirins. He told me my ribs would heal on their own, that I would be out of the splint in six weeks; that I should take it easy. Sam got me out of there after almost an hour in a damn hospital bed. He filled the prescription for me as we left the building.

"Whoever would want to hurt you that bad must know you well enough not to challenge you to a fair fight," Sam shook his head. I looked down at the bottle of pain killers in my lap. Part of me wanted to take one. Another part of me just wanted to suck it up.

"'Cause I'd kill em," I growled.

"Take the pain killer, Sook. There's some water in the glove box." Sam reached over and opened it. He's probably the only person in the world I'd let reach across my lap like that.

"I'm fine."

"Did I ask if you were fine, _chere_? Just take the damn thing. Lookin' at you like that makes my insides hurt." Ah, a little reverse psychology right there. I grabbed the water bottle and unscrewed the cap. I couldn't get the fuckin' medicine bottle open without help, so Sam popped the top and shook out a pill into my hand. I took it, then knocked it down my throat with a few sips of water. It was stale. It'd probably been in the truck for a year.

"Don't boss me around, Sam Merlotte," I muttered.

"I'm your boss, Sook." Sam retorted with a triumphant grimace.

"Yeah, right," I frowned, looking out the window.

Sam drove us back to the bar, but when we got there, I was in no mood to talk to the cops. Andy Bellefleur and Bud Dearborn were stalking around the parking lot amongst lines of glaringly bright yellow police tape. The coroner had arrived and was wheeling a body in a black vinyl bag across the gravel. I was really feeling the effects of the vicodin when we pulled up, yawning and trying hard to keep my eyes open. The sheriff leaned into the open window of Sam's pickup and stared hard at me. He was trying to look intimidating, but he just looked like a crotchety old man to me. I would have busted up laughing if I hadn't been so damn tired.

"What happened to them? How did they die?" Sam had gotten out of the truck and leaned against the passenger door to talk to Bud.

"We ain't releasin' that kind of information, Sam." Bud grunted in that way he had, like he had a big steel rod shoved up his ass.

"Well, who the hell found them there?" Sam demanded.

"Andy Bellefleur found them. Their bodies were up in the trees." Bud gestured to the thicket of bald cypress trees that circled the parking lot.

"How the hell…" Sam breathed.

"Didn't know Rats could fly," I smirked, feeling light-headed.

"What the hell is goin' on with Sookie? Is she on drugs?" Bud sneered in my direction.

"She was beaten up in the lot a few hours ago. She doesn't know who attacked her. I found her out here, took her to the hospital." Sam lied only slightly.

"God damnit, what the hell is Bon Temps turning into?!" The sheriff roared. "This isn't the damn city!"

I woke up in a daze the next morning, only to stare at my alarm clock and find out it was past noon. Sunlight flooded into my bedroom through slats in the wooden window blinds. There was a post-it note on my alarm clock, and the bottle of vicodin was open beside it. I retrieved the note and held it in front of my face. Everything seemed a bit fuzzy, and I had to read it a few times to get the gist. _Sookie_, it said in Sam's hurried handwriting, _get some rest. I'll check on you tomorrow. Sam. _I shook my head and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Instantly regretted it, too. Pain shot up through my arms and legs and torso like a rocket ship headed for outer space. The phone rang at my bedside and I almost tore the cord out of the wall to shut it up.

"What?" I groaned into the receiver. I don't have any of that called identification stuff, or anything, so when the phone rings, I don't ever know who is on the other end. That's a helpful thing to know, especially when the person on the other end could be your only living relative.

"Wow, Sook, have you seen the news?" Jason guffawed on the other end of the line.

"The Rats, yeah. I heard." I grunted, getting ready to hang up.

"No, I meant Maudette Pickens! Man, I used to hook up with her before she went all vamp-crazy." Jason was reminiscing as if Maudette hadn't been my only friend. I wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck.

"Yes," I growled through clenched teeth. "I heard."

"News said it might be vampire-related. I hear there's a new vampire livin' in Bon Temps now, right across the cemetery from you. Maybe you should come live over here."

"Right across the…how the hell do you know that?!" I blinked, shocked. In fact, I got out of bed and hobbled across the room to look out of the blinds at the old, abandoned Compton house across the cemetery. It looked just as old and decrepit as usual, but there was a small blue hatchback sitting in front of it.

"People talk, sis. I listen."

"That vampire, I don't think he did it," I mused quietly, talking more to myself than Jason.

"How the heck do you know that?" Jason asked.

"I just know, okay? Quit givin' me shit."

"Yeah, fine. Look, Maudette's funeral is on Wednesday. You should go."

I hung up before I answered him. Of course I was going to Maudette's funeral, and I prayed that Jason wouldn't be there to join me. I continued staring out the window at the old Compton place, a house that had been abandoned since I was a little girl. I couldn't remember the last time it had been occupied by anyone, but now it seemed to house a vampire, a very particular vampire. I thought about Maudette's murderer, probably a vampire just like him. If I could get him to take me to the vampire bar in Shreveport, I could probably find and kill Maudette's murderer. I just needed an _in_.

I walked back to the bathroom and flicked on the light. I hadn't seen myself in the mirror once since the day before, and now I could understand Sam's grimacing. One of my cheeks was black and blue. There was dried blood on my mouth and nose. There were bruises on just about every part of exposed skin. The scrapes on my elbows and knees were scabbed over now. The fingers of my broken arm were swollen. I was a mess. I couldn't go to a vampire bar looking like I'd been hit by a baseball bat and raked over hot coals. I'd have to wait until I healed up a bit, until I looked like a real person again. Then I could march into that damn bar and beat down every vamp until I found Maudette's sadistic bed-buddy. Then I could have my way with him in a way he'd never forget.

Sam came by a few hours before dark with Cajun takeout and soft serve ice cream with hot fudge and sprinkles. He set the food down on my kitchen table, and then turned around to look at me. His eyes were a troubled sea of blue, completely distraught with the sight of me. I let down the barriers that kept our thoughts divided, but for some reason, I couldn't hear him. Chalk that up to the beating, I thought. My head was broken, and it was sorta nice, except for the whole broken and beaten part. Sam put his hands on my shoulders, gently, and bent forward. I took a step back. I really hate being touched. But Sam wasn't taking my shit. He rarely did. He bent in again and touched his lips to my forehead. It was nice, I admit. I stood there, stock still, while he did it, but it was really nice.

"Did you take some medicine?" Sam asked, scooping some rice, beans, and fried shrimp onto a plate.

"I'm fine," I shrugged.

"Take the medicine, _chere_," Sam growled, narrowing his eyes at me but keeping his voice strangely soft.

"I told you I was fine," I replied, just as resolute and aggressive.

"I didn't ask if you were fine," Sam said. If he had fur, it would have stuck up on the back of his neck. He stalked past me and went to grab the medicine bottle off the table in the bedroom. I heard him rattle the bottle and extract a pill. He thrust it into my hand as he breezed back into the kitchen.

"Damnit, Sam, you're not my father!" I shouted.

"That's right," he said, suddenly staring me in the eyes. "I'm your friend, and I'm your boss. Take the pill."

I thrust it in my mouth and swallowed it. I don't know why I did it. Thankfully, Sam didn't look triumphant or accomplished, like he'd just won a battle of wills. He simply set my plate of supper on the table in front of my chair, and sat down in the chair beside it with his own serving. We ate in almost utter silence, and the medicine hit me like a brick to the temple. I could swear I was slurring my speech and passing in and out of consciousness, completely oblivious to any physical pain, by the time ice cream was set down in front of me.

"I'm going to find the son of a bitch that hurt Maudette," I said to Sam between bites of ice cream.

"That's what the police are for, Sookie," Sam sighed.

"If it was a vampire, they can't do anything."

"And if it wasn't? Are you going to commit murder, same as Maudette's killer did?"

"Yes," I grunted. I didn't feel guilty or proud. It was simply something I had to do, for my friend. "If someone killed someone you love, wouldn't you want to kill them right back?"

"Yes," Sam said quietly, looking right at me. The fringes of kitchen around his face were blurry, and I knew I was close to passing out again. His eyes were full moons of bright blue, and I swear I could see his soul in them. It was the drugs talking, for sure.

There was a knock at the door, and it echoed in my head like someone was using my skull as a bass drum. Sam got up out of his chair and I followed him. After all, it was my house, and my front door. Sam reached it first and, because I don't have a peep hole, swung open the door. Bill was standing on the straw welcome mat, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. His skin was as pale as the moon glowing behind him, and his mouth was no longer rosy but grayish. His scruffy hair had been combed, and he wore a plain blue collared shirt and a pair of black slacks.

"Sookie," Bill said in a low, growling voice. "I came to see how you were feeling."


	5. Chapter 5

**Reckless**

_Chapter 5_

"You!" Sam sneered at Bill in that unsettlingly inhuman way of his. Had he hackled, they'd be raised up on the back of his neck, spiked and sharp. Fangs out, ready to attack, that was Sam Merlotte.

"Bill Compton," Bill said, inclining his head at Sam. Outwardly, he almost looked friendly, but you didn't have to be a mind reader to know that his formal introduction was a smokescreen for his own aggressive stance. It was like a testosterone parade.

"What the hell are you doin' here? How the hell do you know where Sookie lives?" Sam was Mister Defensive, and if I wasn't stoned out of my mind on pain medication, I probably would have pushed him out of the way. I don't need a protector.

"I have seen her come home at night. I live just across the way." He gestured at the old farmhouse across the cemetery.

"This is why you should be living in town," Sam said to me. He narrowed his eyes at the vampire standing awkwardly on my welcome mat.

"Oh Jesus," I scowled. "I don't need this shit right now. This is my house." I shoved my shoulder into Sam's arm and pushed him out of the way. "Bill had a hand in saving my hide last night at the bar, same as you."

I turned to Bill and stepped out onto the porch, my head feeling a little sore and a little dizzy. The rest of me, in comparison, was in fine shape. I couldn't feel anything but happy butterflies from the eyeballs down. I shut the front door behind me and sat down on Gran's old porch swing. The moon was high in the sky, casting a white glow on the headstones.

"Look," I began, not looking at the vampire but talking to him all the same. "I don't really know what you did to me last night but thanks."

"I fed you with some of my blood. Vampire blood has numerous effects on the human body, including the ability to heal you when you are ill. You should take more."

"Thanks, but I'm fine." I shuddered. I'd ingested vampire blood? I recalled Bill's arm on my face, his blood in my mouth. It came rolling back to me like a tidal wave, and nausea followed right behind it.

"It will not harm you, Sookie. You cannot become a vampire unless you are near death. And even then, we must exchange blood." He spoke like a teacher reading out of an encyclopedia. The creepy factor was definitely settling in.

"It's too easy," I said warily. "There has to be a catch."

I sighed and looked out over the porch railing at the wide lawn. There were fireflies darting to and fro over the grass, turning on their little lights and dancing around like drunken fools. I was building up courage. I don't usually ask people for favors, but I needed a way into that vampire bar, and I wasn't going to dress up like a damn fangbanger. If I went with a vampire, I'd have a chance at finding Maudette's killer.

"Look, I don't normally ask for favors, but…"

"Ask," Bill grunted. He stood beside the balustrade, looking right at me.

"I need to go to the vampire bar in Shreveport. I need to find out more about Maudette's murder, and if I'm there…well, I just need to be there."

"You won't be safe."

"I'm going to heal up some first. I'm not going anywhere lookin' like this." I looked down at myself, my sling, my scraped knees. "But I'm going. I have to go."

"And you do not wish to go with your boss?" Bill swung his head to the house. I followed his eyes and saw Sam peeking out of the kitchen window at us. When he caught my eyes, he turned away.

"Sam would lose his temper too fast in a place like that. Besides, vampire escort to a vampire bar? What could be better than that?"

Bill gazed at me a minute. I closed my eyes and reached out with my brain, but I still couldn't hear him. Was he thinking anything at all? When I opened my eyes again, he reached out to touch my hand. I jerked it back and his hand fell away limply.

"I will take you." Bill agreed after another minute.

I spent a week laid up in bed, swallowing pain killers and eating nothing but ice cream (the only thing I didn't have to cook). Dawn and Arlene, a couple of waitresses at the bar, covered my shifts. Arlene brought by a tuna casserole one night, and Dawn called to ask if Jason was seeing anybody (I didn't know). On Friday, while I was sitting on the sofa reading, there was a knock on the back door. It took me a minute to get up and answer it, and there was Sam. He looked downtrodden. He was carrying a pizza, my check, and the world's sorriest face. I let him in and he went to set the pizza down on the kitchen table.

"You better sit down, Sookie," Sam frowned. So I sat, grabbing a slice of cheese and mushrooms.

"What happened?" I asked. "Did they figure out who killed the Rats?"

"No, not yet. They don't have any leads. But look, _chere_, Dawn was found in her apartment,"

"What do you mean _found_?" I coughed. I set the slice down. I hadn't even taken a bite yet.

"She's dead, Sookie."

"What the fuck do you mean she's dead?!" I bounced up out of my chair and flung my arms up. I'd taken off the sling days ago but still wore a splint of Velcro and black padding.

"I don't know too much about it. The police aren't releasing anything about it. She's just… I found her this afternoon."

"You found her?" My voice squeaked.

"She was late for work, and I called around to see if she was in. There wasn't an answer, and with you out, and Maudette… I didn't have another replacement. So I went over to see if she was in, sleeping or something, forgot about her shift, you know…" Sam covered his face with his hands.

"Oh Jesus, Sam," I frowned. I touched his shoulder, just because I wasn't sure what else I should do. I'm no good with people. Hearing people's thoughts doesn't help much with the bonding experience.

"There's more…" Sam choked. How could there possibly be more? "They brought Jason in for questioning. He was with both Maudette and Dawn before they were…"

"Jason?" I coughed. Jason was a dumb shit but he couldn't kill anyone, not even by accident.

"I don't think it was him, but…"

"Look, can you take me over there? I have to…"

"Hear his thoughts," Sam finished for me. He was looking up at me, and there were red rings around his eyes.

"Yeah…" I frowned. Sam was one of the few people in the world that knew about that extra _gift_ of mine. He grabbed his keys off the table and put the pizza in the fridge.

We drove in silence to Jason's house, but he wasn't home. There was only one other place he could be, but I almost didn't want to believe it. Jason was the sweet one, dumb as a post, but not one to get in trouble with the law. That was my territory, for sure. Sam parked in front of the police department and I got out. After five days of bed rest, I looked a lot better. It was more of a slightly bruised but doing okay look than a wow Sookie got hit by a truck look. I stalked into the building with Sam on my heels and slammed my good fist onto the desk.

"I want to see my brother," I growled at Charlotte, the secretary.

"They just got him settled in a cell, Sookie. I'll ask the deputy to take you back." Charlotte was a good old bird, even if she'd mostly met me in handcuffs.

I left Sam at the front of the building. Rain clouds broke over us as I stalked back through the offices to the jail. I'd been here more than a few times before, but I'd never traveled without a man mishandling me and dragging me by the elbow. It was an unusual experience. Jason was sitting with his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He looked distraught, but I knew that he wasn't thinking so much about Maudette and Dawn as he was wondering how the hell to get out of this mess.

"Jason," I said, scowling at him through the bars.

"Sookie!" Jason yelped, getting to his feet. "You gotta get me out of here! They're gonna charge me with murder! Damnit, I didn't kill anybody!"

"I know," I sighed. I didn't even have to read his mind to know that. "Look, do you know if Dawn was ever…with vampires?"

"Okay that's just disgusting! Hell no she wasn't. Dawn was normal." Jason's eyes darted around my head, but I wiggled around in his pecan-sized brain. _Vampires! Man oh man, what is this world coming to? I can't believe her! Those marks on her leg…vampire fangs. Disgusting! _

"Right," I said. "Like I don't know you're full of shit."

"I didn't kill anybody, sis," Jason repeated.

"Don't worry. If I know anything about the law in this town, they won't be holding you for long. They don't have any evidence, except that you're a whore."

Sam dropped me back off at the house and went to open the bar for a few hours. I wolfed down a couple slices of pizza and went to change. With a little makeup, I could cover what remained of the bruising. I couldn't take off the stupid splint, but I could at least wear black to match it. I pulled on a pair of tight black jeans and a low cut black halter top. I wiggled my feet into a pair of patent leather black pumps, and put on dark lipstick and lots of mascara. I needed to achieve a look that was both breathtaking and slutty, something that Dawn or Maudette would wear out to the vampire bar. That way, I could pick up the right kind of attention from the wrong sort of people, the people that murdered my friends.

I knocked on Bill's door at a little after nine o'clock. The door opened slowly, but Bill wasn't behind it. Instead, there stood a pasty white man, short with greasy black hair tied in a ponytail. He grinned at me, his fangs visible.

"Well howdy there, sugar," the vampire hummed. "You're just in time for the party. Why don't you come on in?"


End file.
